


Soul Mates

by suju786



Series: Tales of Voyeur [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bottom Draco, Hogwarts Eighth Year, M/M, PWP Drabble, Top Harry, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-18
Updated: 2017-04-18
Packaged: 2018-10-20 14:57:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10665024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suju786/pseuds/suju786
Summary: Theres pink on pale and rouge on ruddy and red on green - Gryffindor’s unlikely passion for Slytherin before a hidden and shameless, auburn gaze.





	Soul Mates

At some awfully late hour of something-AM on some stormy day, Hermione Granger would like to think she’d have either been fast asleep or reviewing her lecture material like any self-respecting witch.

She finds herself stored snugly away in Draco Malfoy’s unnecessarily elegant corner of the world instead. Unmoving, she is - eyes equally unblinking as she stares through the gap between the room doors, at a gap in reality that offers the truth of an unrealistic dream.

_ Harry & Draco. _

Stunning and unspeakably beautiful they are together, as anyone would imagine; as they lay intimately entwined in his shuddering bed; Harry towering over Draco, who lay on his back on the mattress beneath him.

It’s all soft, shocking murmurs; light, warm touches interspersed between weighty strokes filled with a primal starvation -  lingering caresses and heavy petting that never really ends. Dark hands squeezing bruises into that yielding soft skin; nails turned to desperate claws as they rake shallow trails of blood back. A gasp here, and a roar there; parting lips and gnashing teeth. _Clang, clang, clang!_  Goes the headboard of Draco's sturdy bed against an even studier wall -  _"oh-Harry!"_ \- followed by a teasing chuckle. Gentle and genuine smiles made holy with a rare sort of wonder; glimmering blue-gray and hooded evergreen - angel hair and rough, sooty curls.

Mauve and scarlet, made wet and pliable against each other, slip and slide and slide and slip and twist and turn. Words murmured into each other -  _"... touch... there-." "... here... in you."_ Toes curl, eyes roll; mouth open, head lolls.  _"...yesss..."_

As whispers of a conversation so intimate, its almost wrong, reach Hermione’s ears, her breath catches painfully somewhere deep in her sternum and she’s struck somewhat dumb by all the stark contrasts that mesh and mold so beautifully into one another. It’s all an exquisite piece of living art, she can only think, a timeless installation. She can’t help but almost… _love it._

Flushed alabaster framed by scarred tan; theres pink on pale and rouge on ruddy; red on green - Gryffindor’s unlikely passion for Slytherin, and warm soft skin framed by massive, bejeweled emerald pillows.  _Clang, clang, clang!_  - the steady cacophony of the bed rings on and on. 

Harry’s name is whispered as a prayer from lips so raw, they’ll break any second now. It’s not the usual kind of prayer reserved for the usual kind of savior, no. It’s an intimate plea, something Hermione is intruding on by even hearing because the soft phrases that struggle past those tender lips are only meant for Harry’s ears.

_“Only you…,”_ Draco whispers to her best friend over and over again, boundless timeless words: _“I love you - only you, I love you… Harry I love you… so… much…”_

He’s made such a beautiful mess of himself before Harry, it can only be endearing. Hermione cannot bring herself to look away as she shamelessly takes in what she can: soft and pale legs, long and bouncing rhythmically over Harry’s tan hips. Draco cries softly with each powerful shove, toes curling in tight, thighs opening wider and wider. He’s half-clothed, his open silken night robes crumpling under him as he clings to Harry.

And Harry reciprocates. He smiles something foreign and _filthy,_ an expression Hermione tends never to associate with Harry’s gentle smiles and infectious laughs. Its something wrong, she’d like to say - but at the same time not. It suits him after all. She’s never seen it, is all - its not something she’s used to; she thinks she might have even thought Harry had been too scarred by the war to take comfort in another body after he’d broken up with Ginny-.

She looks up when she hears Draco let out a sound more exotic than usual.

As Harry murmurs something low and husky to him, she flushes bright as she eyes the new slick mess Draco’s suddenly made on his stomach with a broken gasp.

All together it accounts for multiple rounds, she tries not to calculate exactly how many but Harry’s been out of sight for the better half of the night. She can only imagine how delirious he’s been made at Harry’s mercy; Draco seems capable of only three certain words as it is, _I love you’s_ interspersed between the frequent wails of Harry’s name.

A muted howl abruptly cuts deep into his soft racket, and Hermione watches as Draco’s long limbs wrap even tighter around Harry as he sinks into him. Their rhythm continues, slowing, but never seeming to end as lines of an exhausted conversation come back to life.

Long legs drop, loosening gradually at Harry’s sides until they’re weakly wrapped over his waist - talons return to blunt nails and trembling fingers ease into aimless patterns across Harry’s stubbly jaw.

_“I love you,”_ \- it’s Harry’s turn to whisper aimless nothings now, that filthy smirk returning to his lips as he presses them repeatedly into those soft curves, all the while pushing insistently between Draco’s loose legs - a steady _in,_ _in, in_ that has Draco mewling between casual words, making this casual moment all the more intimate. _“My beautiful, beautiful angel,”_ he murmurs just loud enough for Hermione’s heart to ache with emotions she can’t put names to, - _"love you more than life, more than you'll ever know-."_ Harry kisses him everywhere,  _"-to the moon and back-,"_  Draco starts laughing, and its this soft, tinkling bell of a thing Hermione had never even known Draco and his foul mouth were even capable of. Its this utterly raw and unspoken charm that has her mouth twitching at the corners like Draco’s when his soft, wild eyes crinkle at the edges with a smile so sweet it’s cavity-inducing.

Harry’s enchanted by it as well; feverishly kissing the laugh off Draco’s lips like he can’t get enough of the poison; like he’s addicted to it even, truly anyone would be. _“God, you’re so cute…,”_ he groans softly into the space between them, but loud enough for their audience to hear and go weak in the knees. Draco replies with something decidedly unimportant as Harry adds, _"I love you,_ _more than anyone in this world - I love you."_  And Harry really, truly does.

It makes Hermione feel a little empty and guilty at the same time, because what Harry and Draco have is obviously what she and Ron have, but at the same time, exactly what’s missing in her life. There’s an intensity with which Harry says his words that makes the same phrase, _I love you_ , by Ron’s mouth - a little less true.

_“God, Draco - I love you so much-,”_ \- its a raw and desperate sort of need that Harry enunciates, like he’s trying to prove to God almighty that he belongs to Draco and Draco belongs to him. Hermione doesn’t doubt the notion even a bit. She takes one glance at the couple and immediately notes that they’ll last forever; long after time withers away and the names _Potter_ and _Malfoy_ are mere epitaphs in gravestones.

They’re _soul mates._

To think anyone would even think otherwise is almost preposterous - she thinks as she shuts Draco's door and goes along her way. 


End file.
